"You'll make me a devil, with your tricks, Philip Searle," she said, sipping the liquor, and looking at him wickedly over the rim of the tumbler.
"Ha! ha! ha!" she laughed aloud, as he muttered a curse between his clenched teeth, "I'm not the country girl, Philip dear, that I was when you whispered your sweet nonsense in my ear. I know your game, my bully boy, and I'll play you card for card."
"Bradshaw" shouted Philip, going to the door and striving to open it.
"It's no use," she said, "I've got the key in my pocket. Sit down. I want to talk to you. Don't be a fool."
"Where's Bradshaw, Moll?"
"At the depot by this time, I fancy, for the carriage went off at a deuce of a rate."
She laughed again, while he paced the room with angry strides.
"'Twas he, then, that betrayed me. The villain! I'll have his life for that, as I'm a sinner."
"Your a great sinner; Philip Searle. Sit down, now, and be quiet. Where's the girl?"
"What girl?"